


A Gentleman Thief

by RafaelaFranzen



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Now You See Me (2013)
Genre: Magic, Other, Pickpocketing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3451286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RafaelaFranzen/pseuds/RafaelaFranzen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when a gentleman thief has several run-ins with unsuspecting Kingsman? Merlin sees potential to put her talents to good use - if they can get their hands on her. She's proving to be much harder to pin down than he anticipated. Full of steals, trickery, magic, and shit going down as a result. Takes place some time after the film.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The OC in this fic is based heavily on the abilities of theatrical pickpocket/sleight of hand artist Apollo Robbins. I recommend that you watch several videos of his steals (which I will link in chapters throughout the fic as they become relevant) to have a better comprehension or mental image of the pickpocketing sections of plot in this fic, as some perspectives will be written from the viewpoint of the victim who is not able to visually/physically follow what is going on and so may lack otherwise supportive description. 
> 
> Stealing under the guise of a disappearing coin trick: http://bitly.com/1Bnykcr
> 
> Planting a pen inside a stolen wallet while pickpocketing 3 people: http://bit.ly/1wvh2cR
> 
> Before you think steals of this level might be unrealistic - Apollo’s most celebrated theft is having pickpocketed confidential documents, ID badges and the keys to the motorcade from Secret Service agents who were protecting former US president Jimmy Carter by simply striking up a conversation with them as distraction, no trickery involved. It’s pretty amazing what he can accomplish by managing another person’s attention without them realising it.
> 
> Thanks to Sherry aka austinlanghams on tumblr for beta reading!

“This trick is more about the timing. Did you see it go?”

Percival’s head swivels to look to his left shoulder, but the silver coin he had come to expect was not present.

“You other shoulder-“

A corresponding neck tilt-

“No, perhaps your inside jacket pocket on the right?”

The agent’s right hand rose self consciously to pat the fabric of his double-breasted suit, cut so closely it should have been impossible to breach.

“Ah, perhaps it’s in your left trouser pocket – no, no, don’t put your hand inside your pocket, that’s a different trick- here, do allow me just to check the outside”

The diminutive female scrapes her fingernail against the outside fabric of the pocket -a clear resistance of something metallic hidden there-

“Here we go sir- I believe this is something of yours?”

She produces his fountain pen – pulled, it seems, from his trouser pocket and he stares in bewilderment. He was sure it had been in his inside jacket pocket a minute ago.

“That’s strange sir – do you usually carry about an empty pen? I think it needs a refill, don’t you?”

The nib and cartridge, which only he knew to contain a deadly poison shortly needed to turn someone’s day badly wrong, was gone.

“Just check that you’ve got your wallet still – in your lower jacket pocket on the left, wasn’t it? Perhaps you’d like to take it out, make sure nothing’s missing?”

Percival feels for the reassuring square corners of leather against fabric, finding it still present, and extracts the bifold from the interior of the jacket. Swinging it open, a ubiquitous bulge is present within the inner card fold, and though his expression doesn’t betray his thoughts he can hardly believe his eyes as he frees the fountain pen cartridge from the wallet.

“How helpful that you keep an extra in your wallet sir- now you can be sure that you’ve got a pen handy.”

Percival stares dumbfounded at the female magician, veiled mischief dancing behind her startling silver eyes. A hand is offered and he slips into his practiced gentlemanly manner, grasping it to give a firm, polite shake. If he had suspicions, he wasn’t showing any signs of it.

“Very interesting work you did there, Ms – pardon me, I don’t think I managed to catch your name.”

“Gillian Teller. Pleasure to have had your company this evening Mr Davies.”

\----------

“Rather interesting character, wasn’t she? You do realise though, that you’ve just been distracted for a good five minutes there, and that’s five minutes too long.”

Merlin’s stoic tone assaulted his ear, a twinge of annoyance clearly evident.

“I need you back on surveillance, now. Llewllyn’s just arrived, left corner by the champagne bar with his business partner – who you’ll want to remember, is an innocent party in the proceedings we’re dealing with. Get them someplace private, there’s an empty lounge beyond the door by the DJ console. Oh- and take him out without witnesses this time, please.”

Percival suppressed a huff and strode towards the bar, screwing the pen cartridge back into its casing. Merlin was wound up, and rightly so- Percival never realised how he had managed to remain distracted for quite as long as he did. But he definitely wouldn’t let Merlin have the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

\----------

Robyn winced, holding her left eyelid open, grasping carefully with the tips of her fingers to extract the thin membrane obscuring the brown of her pupils. An arduous process, but one had to go to such lengths in order to avoid recognition elsewhere. Tricky business it was since cocktail receptions usually involved the same circle of high flyers.  

She manages to eventually liberate herself from the pallor of heavy foundation and the multitude of pins securing the wig cap to her head that made up “Gillian”, desperately anticipating the slump into the plushness of the duvet. The rumpled clothes she’d shed haphazardly across the hotel bed though, reminds her that she should probably take inventory of the day’s finds. From within numerous pockets of her three-piece suit she unearths a multitude of watches, bracelets, several wallets and a couple of extravagantly plated lighters.  

Out of the pile to be fenced, one watch catches Robyn’s eye – a stunningly designed rose gold number with an alligator skin strap. She smiles as she examines the face and tries it on her wrist.

_Kingsman by Bremont. Gotta remember that, might make a nice gift for the folks back on the strip._

\----------

Percival frowned at his wrist, most disconcertingly watch-free. Right on cue, Llewllyn, who had been getting paler over the course of the last five seconds following a discreet tweaking of the pen clip in Percival’s pocket, lost hold of his half-filled champagne flute and slumped over, unmoving.

His business partner though, was lacking the planned amnesia-inducing stun pellet in his neck.

_Shit, now there’s a witness._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thank yous to all the readers and additionally to those who have followed/commented! I am really grateful for the encouragement, having not properly written fic for more than 7 years now. The updates after this chapter might come a little slower, as I work full-time during the weekdays.
> 
> Some background for the art installation mentioned later in this chapter for those who might not have heard of it: 'Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red' was an installation present at the Tower of London in 2014 made of 888,246 ceramic poppies planted in the moat, one for each British and Colonial fatality during the First World War. At this point you can probably see the parallels between the installation and a certain day when the world went to shit in the Kingsman universe...I'll leave you to read the rest.
> 
> Obligatory disclaimer that although Apollo Robbins is mentioned by name, it's just in passing reference to his reputation as a deception expert. He will not actually be used as a character in the fic.
> 
> Thanks to Sherry again for beta reading/editing input!

_This is getting out of hand._

Merlin frowned, pulling up several mission reports from the past week at his network operations control desk.

"Just preposterous. Three watches, two pens, a hand grenade – even a signet ring, for heaven's sake."

The missing item counts were piling up. So too, were the less than ideal stumbling blocks in missions and cleanup operations necessitated after.

Percival was forced to deliver a karate chop to the back of the head of an innocent bystander that caused a concussion before they could send in an operative to administer the amnesia-inducing drug.

Gawain's only option had been to take out 20 henchmen in hand-to-hand combat – he'd run out of bullets after the hand grenade needed to cover his escape had gone missing. Him being out of action for at least a week with injuries sustained in the brawl posed a serious consequence, especially with the shortage of knights they were experiencing after the V-day fallout.

Lancelot had to drive her neurotoxin-laced blade – the only weapon she had left – into the visiting Juarez drug cartel's second-in-command to save herself from being asphyxiated. Now the entire cartel was on high alert, making the infiltration of their ranks significantly more challenging than it needed to be.

Not to mention the hastily mounted coverup operation they had to initiate after reports of a vintage gold plated Dunhill Rollagas lighter (the very same model whose casing concealed their hand grenades) explosively combusting in Suttons & Robertsons Pawnbroker's in Victoria Street made the local tabloids.

Such substandard performance was not the level of finesse Kingsman knights upheld. One or two lost articles per month were expected technical casualties, but this could nearly be considered a coordinated attack.

The only thing Merlin could see in common from all the incidents was the knights having to mingle with a crowd beforehand. Nothing out of the ordinary for assignments involving targets to whom a million dollars were regarded as little more than peanuts.

With a few keystrokes, he executed a facial recognition cross-reference on the knights' video feeds from the "missing item" missions. Faces flooded the screen – predictable socialite types in glitzy dresses and strapping suits. One cross-reference result though, caught his eye. A quick swipe brought up four female faces – all seemed distinctly different with varied hairstyles, eye colours and subtle changes to the contours of their face. However each donned a suit and shirt with an open collar, tagged to the bio of a pan-Asian street magician named Robyn Yeu from Las Vegas.

"Well, this is most interesting."

His eyebrows perked up and he studied the screen intently, taking in a detail from her history that had jumped out at him. A finger tap on the call button for #02 connected him to the audio channel of the knights' glasses.

"Galahad, I need you in UK headquarters at five o'clock to brief you on your next assignment."

The last line of her history read "Mentored by Apollo Robbins, The Gentleman Thief".

* * *

Eggsy strode uphill towards the brightly lit entrance of the pub squat beneath the shelter of the railway arches by Tower Hill. The glow of streetlamps threw light on the shattered ceramic remains of the hundreds upon thousands of blood-red poppies littering the moat of the Tower as he'd gone past, and he couldn't help a momentary shiver at the sight. It had been several months since V-day, but sights like these reminded him that all was not yet right with the world in the wake of the explosive and spontaneous violence that'd occurred.

He liked to think that some of the surviving poppies stood for the Kingsman who were lost to the slaughter of V-day, even if they'd never been considered part of Her Majesty's Armed Forces.

The warmth that flooded through Eggsy's body as the door swung shut behind him comforted him somewhat, re-centering his thoughts on the assignment at hand. He took a quick scan around the pub as he loosened the scarf around his neck. It all seemed rather quiet, being late on a weekday evening.

"Over to your right, corner table on the upper level."

As ever, Merlin was a helpful set of extra eyes, even if having a voice in his ear all the time was getting a little tiring.

As he approached, the suited pixie-haired female rose to greet him – he could tell by the way her eyes shifted that she was giving him a once-over. Merlin's murmured warning to not scare her away reminded him not to exaggerate his smile, as he extended his left hand to meet her offered palm. Her grip was warmer and firmer than he expected.

"I was told to expect you. Pleasure to make your acquaintance this evening – Mr. Brice, was it?"

"Anthony Brice, but call me Anthony," he confirmed. If anything, his training made lying easier than ever. Honestly, the suit did most of the work for him. "I've heard so much about your skills from my colleagues in Vegas – to tell the truth, I practice a bit of sleight of hand myself, and what they described sounds…unheard of, if you'll pardon my disbelief." A bit on the strong side where conversation starters were concerned, but beating around the bush had never been a habit of his.

They kept eye contact, and for a moment Eggsy could have sworn he saw a brief flash in her eyes at the challenge he posed, her hand still locked around his own. Then, she floored him with her response.

"Let's play a game. In three minutes, I'm going to be wearing your watch. Try to catch me if you can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading and reviews are much appreciated! 
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr at rafaelafranzen if you prefer to send asks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my readers, thank you so much for your patience. I’ve been more busy the past week and this chapter became more challenging for me to write when I realised the original splitting-off point I’d arrived at (originally about halfway into the chapter) didn’t progress the story and characters sufficiently, so I continued writing until I reached a point I was more satisfied with. This makes this chapter twice the length of a usual chapter, so hopefully this makes up for the wait! 
> 
> There are a few more steals in this chapter, so as usual supplementary video links will follow of Apollo Robbins’s work, a combination of which form the basis of Robyn’s execution of her pickpocketing skills. 
> 
> The watch steal: http://bit.ly/1A8qzS7
> 
> In which 4 items are lifted within a very short time: http://bit.ly/1BYrR86
> 
> Zooming in on the inside-jacket pocket steal: http://bit.ly/1MkYjlY (2nd video from the first chapter)
> 
> As always, many thanks to Sherry for the beta-read/co-editing contribution!

Robyn was no stranger to a battle of wits, but the steely eyed Mr. Brice didn’t look like he’d be an easy nut to crack.

_If he’s got sleight of hand experience, the usual distractions won’t fool him. Yet he underestimates me, so I’m sure he can’t fully comprehend my techniques. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have a bit of fun with this one…_

At this point the three central fingers of her left hand were holding the straps on the gentleman’s watch closed, having already undone the clasp while they’d been shaking hands.

“Let’s play a game. In three minutes, I’m going to be wearing your watch. Try to catch me if you can.”

She cracked a smile at his raised eyebrows, watching as his focus darted to his wrist – where for all intents and purposes, the watch appeared to still be securely fastened. Exactly the reaction she’d been expecting. Gripping his left shoulder with her right hand, she applied a slight pressure to steer him backwards a few steps while twisting her body sideways to slide out between the tables.

“Now Mr. Brice, it’s only fair to give me some room to work with here. At the same time, while you’ve been focused on your watch, you lost the cell phone that’s in your front pocket.”

Taking advantage of that brief distraction, she flipped the watch strap off his wrist and allowed it to drop into her right jacket pocket and out of sight. Her left hand slipped out of his grip to tap the outside of his front trouser pocket.

“Check your front pocket, see if it’s still there.”

Without having noticed the watch’s departure from his left wrist, the hand darted down to pat the fabric outside his trouser pocket.

“It is. But how’d you know it was kept there?”

The banter was opportunity enough for her to draw his sight line up to make eye contact while she retrieved the watch from her pocket to fasten it around her wrist behind her back. She had a feeling she’d be winning this round.

“One can make assumptions, Mr. Brice. I simply have the good fortune of mine being right most days.”

By then, his watch was safely hidden beneath her suit cuff. But as she allowed her hand to brush against the back flap of his suit to check his back pockets, it dawned on her that she had far more to worry about than just proving her worth.

_He’s carrying a gun._

It fazed her, but not enough to stop her from diverting his attention to a faux green olive skewered on a toothpick produced from his lower left jacket pocket.

“You’ve got something rather strange here, if you don’t mind me bringing it out. Been saving this since your last martini?” she quipped, while her right hand went to work removing the magazine from the gun.

The ammunition disappeared into her back pocket just as she stowed the olive in his front jacket pocket. “Better put it somewhere safe,” she joked.

Despite appearing to fall into her easy routine of cheerful banter and flighty-fingered extractions, she couldn’t shake the feeling something wasn’t quite right about this client. His suit– his watch– his glasses even– they all looked unsettlingly familiar. _Also the fact that he carried a fucking gun to our meeting._

\----------

Eggsy still wasn’t sure what to make of Robyn. As far as he could see, she had a rather earnest, if a bit of a mischievous air about her. But her techniques seemed unorthodox. His own steals on the street involved swiping one item at best after employing a single diversion and making himself scarce before the mark had a chance to discover something was amiss.

He had to admit though, he was settling into a comfortable ease with her soft spoken manner, his concentration flitting between her touches and his left wrist. She was brilliant at dividing his attention, but as far as he was concerned, she hadn’t made a motion to take his watch even once since she’d made the claim.

“May I move this so I can take a peek inside here?”

Eggsy consented, amused at her choice of words. He allowed her to pull his scarf aside, while his gaze remained fixed on the hand reaching under the lapel of his suit.

\----------

“You don’t have a whole lot on you. I must say your suit is superbly cut, it isn’t quite so easy to tell what you’ve got in your pockets.”

Robyn drew her fingers out of his suit jacket just as quickly – showing she was empty handed, and tapped the outer part of his right inside jacket pocket. “I notice though, that you’ve got a pen here– a little harder to get to because of how your suit fits. I’ll just step over to the side. Would you be so kind as to bring it out for me to take a look? Also check your front jacket pocket–  is there anything valuable inside that you’re missing?”

By the time she had slid around his back and returned to his left, his scarf was draped around her neck.

“You are truly a man of discerning taste, Mr. Brice.”

Accepting the offered pen, a quick uncapping of the lid confirmed her suspicions - it was the same model she’d lifted from at least two other persons within the past week.

“A classic Conway Stewart fountain pen – very nice. Let me return this so you can keep it safe.”

Robyn mimed tucking the pen inside his jacket pocket, but in truth it was simply extracted again, pressed to his shoulder, passed behind his neck into her right hand, and transferred to her pocket.

Four items were gone, and for all his claims of having practiced sleight of hand, she was amazed he had yet to notice even a single steal. But she’d gathered enough from the meeting to put two and two together. He wasn't simply another client in need of her to demonstrate her skills for entertainment. Something larger was definitely afoot.

_He’s fucking using this opportunity as an investigation, isn’t he._

She wasn’t about to stick around to find out what he had in store for her.

“I think it’s been about a minute, Mr. Brice. Would you verify that for me?”

\----------

_Two minutes left, you might need to pick up the pac–_

Eggsy never got to finish the thought, much less speak the words. He’d drawn up his cuff and the watch he was so sure he’d been keeping an eye out for was gone.

Glancing up, he drew an audible breath as Robyn brought her wrist up ever so nonchalantly as if it were just another occasion to check the time, only to reveal the glint of unmistakable rose gold he’d come to grow fond of over the last couple of months.

_Oh fuck me._

\-----------

Biting on her inside lip did little to suppress Robyn’s rapidly forming smirk. Satisfaction every time – watching reactions to her unveiling her steals never got old.

“Oh, no need, I’ve got the time. No gentleman should be without a watch, Mr. Brice. How unfortunate that you seem to have misplaced yours. I believe I can spare you this one – hopefully it’s to your taste.”

With practiced restraint, she kept herself from bursting into laughter as she handed him the timepiece. His mouth hung agape in a distinctively ungentlemanly manner, and she almost wished she had a circle of spectators around them.

“You had all these other items as well–” Her hand delved into her jacket pocket and brought out a gleaming chromed Fisher Space Pen. “I believe that’s not yours,  but you had one didn’t you?” The silver pen is tucked away and she extracts his black Conway Stewart from her pocket, holding it out to him “A fountain pen?”

Robyn could feel his stare boring into her as he plucked the pen from her fingers wordlessly. Taking his speechlessness in stride, she continued.

“It’s cold outside, you should get one of these too – it goes very nicely with your suit.”

She leaned into his left shoulder as she transferred the scarf from her neck to his, reducing her voice to just above a whisper.

“Unfortunately Mr. Brice, I prefer to be of service to people who are honest with why they have an interest in doing business with me, and I’m not getting that from you. Thank you for your time, and good evening.”

In parting, she pressed the cold rectangle of metal fished from her back pocket into his left palm, turned around, and strode calmly out of the pub. The moment the night air enveloped her however, she broke out into a dead sprint down the street.

_Shit. What on earth am I supposed to do now?_

\----------

Eggsy thought he’d seen everything after the watch. He’d felt even less sure about himself after the pen was revealed, and was utterly aghast at his failure to notice his scarf’s transfer to her neck until she returned it to his.

Looking down at the handgun magazine in his hand was the kicker that left him reeling. By the time his hand had felt under his suit’s back flap to confirm the gun’s magazine well was empty, his stomach might as well have dropped six feet.

“Shit Merlin, she took all the fucking bullets out of my gun in less than sixty seconds without me realising. How in the everloving fuck did she manage to do that?”

\----------

Very rarely did Merlin care more about basic assignment surveillance than his spilt mug of tea pooling across his workstation and onto the workspace floor.

This was one of those few occasions in which his thoughts were not preoccupied with the unfortunate waste of loose-leaf Jacksons of Piccadilly Earl Grey.

He’d seen a lot in his time at Kingsman. Instinctively executed infiltration techniques that couldn’t have gone more smoothly had they been choreographed. Assassinations carried out so cleanly that the victims never had a chance to retaliate. Using his hacking expertise to breach multiple failsafes in the highest level security systems worldwide without raising alarms. In perpetuity, Kingsman came out on top damn near every time. Their training made sure of that.

It unnerved him greatly, not knowing how Robyn managed to achieve that feat in the time she had.

Merlin knew he was the de-facto strategist in Kingsman in the absence of an appointed Arthur. But as extensive as his plans were, even he had to admit Kingsman didn’t yet have contingency against a pickpocket who could extract a knight’s arsenal – a knight who had pickpocketing experience, no less –  from right under their noses seemingly by magic.

_Such an exploitable weakness in Kingsman is unthinkable._

He did not like to think about the possibility of an adversary employing this ability against them.

“I wish I knew, Galahad. If you were there in person and didn’t see how she did that, I’m afraid we have a rather larger problem on our hands than I anticipa–”

Eggsy’s voice cut in on the audio feed, “Damn, I need to learn how to do that. Think of what I could do if I could nick stuff out of someone’s inside jacket pockets! That would be insane.”

_Of course. It’s so simple._

The boy’s interjection, while not particularly appreciated, brought about a novel revelation.

_We’ll simply have to acquire this gentleman thief for ourselves._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I’d love for you to tell me what you think - please leave a review if you feel so inclined, and if you haven’t got an account on here, do feel free to drop an ask by my tumblr at rafaelafranzen


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, readers/followers! This is somewhat of a filler chapter because I wanted to write something less involved with advancing plot for a bit of a break. In the wake of Sir Terry Pratchett’s death (long may he remain in our hearts and memories), I thought a little bit of humour was in order to break up the seriousness of proceedings. Hope you’ll enjoy this little interlude!
> 
> Again a million thanks to Sherry for the beta-read/editing help!

If keeping a low profile was Robyn’s default, she’d been keeping lower than low for the past month.

Frankly, she was sick of it. Not living the high life, having to dredge herself in concealment which always took at least a good hour before the jitters were sufficiently swept away for her to step out of her hotel room. Frustratingly, it was never familiar enough to be comfortable – she had been hopping residences under a different alias and credit card every few days, courtesy of the crowds that surged through the streets and museums of London. The people milling about during lunch hour around Cannon Street, she’d found, had particularly deep pockets that were much appreciated when she felt a fancier room was in order for her next pit stop.

None of the rooms’ opulence was of much comfort, especially in the late evenings when she craved a packet of crisps from the Tesco’s Express around the corner but had already removed her makeup for the day. More than once she’d been left stranded in just such a predicament, leaving her grumbling to herself as she made a hot tea to stamp out the yearning for the blasted snack.

To her even greater annoyance though, Robyn still had no idea who was after her and why. They certainly hadn’t stopped looking, for one. The flurry of emails that had landed in her inbox from her American agent about several English clients wanting to meet her after the incident with Mr. Brice let slip just as much. Trouble was, she hadn’t told anyone where she was. Only said that she was on extended break.

She knew better than to take the bait, even if the dollar amounts offered and degree of disgruntlement in the unanswered emails were increasing by the week. For a while she’d even contemplated going back to Vegas and quickly decided that forging an identity to get her though United States immigration was much more trouble than it was worth.

_Besides_ , she thought, _the point of coming here was to challenge myself and enjoy life a little differently_.

It was just rather more challenging and difficult than she’d come to expect.

\----------

The gentle thunk of steaming-mug-landing-on-desk made itself evident as it slid into a corner of Merlin’s peripheral vision.

“It’s late, Merlin. You’ve been at it for weeks. Don’t you think you ought to have a bit of a proper rest tonight?”

Her presence was not entirely unexpected. Roxy had been dropping in on him in the evenings, always with a warm cup of something or other in hand when she was in headquarters. He nodded noncommittally in response, picking up the mug to sip at the concoction – sweet notes of honey, vanilla and apricot blossoming on his tastebuds. Roxy had good taste in tea, as always.

“Percival got his lighter stolen by Galahad again today,” Roxy remarked. “He’s trying rather hard to outdo Robyn, isn’t he?”

This did not surprise Merlin. Most of the knights managed to sound only mildly offended in reply when he’d sent a memo around last month reminding them to keep a sharper eye on their belongings. Eggsy had simply retaliated by making use of every free moment in headquarters to pilfer the other knight’s possessions since his failure at the pub. Taking someone else’s belongings without their knowledge was not a habit he condoned, mind, but the boy was getting some practice and it served to bring his point home to the other agents. Besides, it gave him great satisfaction to simply resend the memo to anyone who complained about their things going missing around Galahad.

“Aye, he’s taking it a bit hard, what with being the best at sleight of hand in our organisation and still not being able to come anywhere close to what she can do. Useful skill, but not quite so useful when up against a master of deception like Robyn. Him getting a bit of practice in won’t harm anyone, s’long as he returns everything.”

He paused to open the daily report from his assistant, Archimedes, on further clues of Robyn’s whereabouts. Several more credit cards and wallets had been reported missing from a smattering of central London bankers and office workers. A few shoddy-quality CCTV snapshots of figures that might or might not have been Robyn about town. Still no notice from immigration of any of her known aliases having passed through their borders.

_Inconclusive, as usual. Bugger._

His lips formed into a stiff line, frustrated at how the girl seemed to dance just two steps out of their reach at every turn. A reassuring hand patted his shoulder.

“Don’t stay up too late, Merlin. Just because she stole our equipment doesn’t mean you have to let her steal your sleep as well.”

He groaned inwardly at the reminder. But consecutive four-hour-sleep days fueled by energy shots would do that to anyone. Lifting the mug to his lips, he took a gulp of tea for good measure. It was going to be another long night.

A mere twenty minutes later, he was struggling to keep his eyes open, and supporting his head on his hands wasn’t doing him much good either. Another five minutes saw him face down on the desk, expelling a sigh halfway between contentment and defeat. He could just barely make out the click of the door handle unlatching in the far corner of the room and the padding of Kingsman-issued slippers making their way towards his desk.

\----------

After gently removing the glasses from the bridge of the older man’s nose, Roxy scooped Merlin up in her arms with some difficulty, delivering a curt shush to silence his muffled protest of being able to manage himself, thank you very much.

“You’ll thank me for this later.”

A couple of minutes was all it took for Roxy to make her way into Merlin’s quarters, bearing him in her arms. The door had been hacked open and courteously held ajar by Eggsy, who’d thankfully had the forethought to pull back the covers on the bed. She lowered him onto the clean sheets with perceptible relief – goodness knows she didn’t expect the man to be quite so heavy – and drew up the covers,  tucking him in as best she could. A nod in Eggsy’s direction saw the lights being extinguished, leaving Merlin to settle into proper restfulness – probably the first time he’d slept in his own bed in over a week.

Eggsy pulled the door shut behind the two of them, taking care to let the latch slide closed silently. His eyes were full of mirth as he held up a fist, to which Roxy lifted her own, grins spreading across both their faces.

“Cor Roxy, you shoulda seen you two. Looked like a bloody groom carrying his bride across the threshold after a weddin’.”

Roxy punched his shoulder – perhaps with more force than she’d intended, as she watched him wince and rub it with his palm.

“Cut it out, you know I don’t swing that way. Mission accomplished anyhow. About time he finally got some proper sleep instead of finding him slumped in front of his monitors nine times out of ten.”

“What on earth d’ya put in his drink anyway? Tranquilizer?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! As if he’d fall for that. He’d taste it in a heartbeat. It’s just regular Dreamtime tea from Whittard of Chelsea, stronger stuff than you’d expect. My mum used to make a cup for me every night when I had insomnia in my teens, and it put me to sleep within a quarter of an hour every time. Always keep a tin of it with me.”

“If you say so.”

“Fine, don’t believe me. We’d better be off to bed ourselves. You need to be in Mozambique by tomorrow afternoon.”

She made a note to offer him a cup of said tea sometime. Preferably on an evening when he was planning to be out doing something stupid at a bar downtown.

\----------

After a few feeble attempts at forming mental reminders to switch access to his quarters from keypad to biometric and give the two knights a good talking-to about whether it was appropriate to pick him up – the answer being a resounding never – Merlin finally allowed himself to drift into the welcoming darkness.

For once, everything else would have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a review or drop an ask by my tumblr at rafaelafranzen.
> 
> PS. The tea mentioned is real, and is actually rather effective at putting me to sleep in short order when drunk warm. Your mileage may vary, but would recommend for those with a sweet tooth. Just don’t drink it in the daytime on your first try unless you intend to take a nap, or are prepared to go about your day feeling very sleepy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, where do I start.
> 
> Firstly, I am so sorry for making everyone wait so long for this chapter. A bunch of stuff happened between the last chapter and this, a combination of the death of my country's modern founder and the week-long mourning that ensued, work, a new watch collecting hobby, planning for two trips overseas...the perfect distraction storm. And it is totally still down to me, so I apologise for seeming to have abandoned this! I promise I'll do my best to see this fic through to the very end, although I can no longer commit to a consistent update schedule for new chapters.
> 
> Secondly this chapter and the following plot for the fanfic has been reworked quite a bit, with an addition of a borrowed character from another fandom- you'll find out who and what at the end of the chapter. I was in a rut for a long time because I honestly had no idea how to move the fic forward. This character helped to revitalise the plot, and you don't have to be a fan of the other fandom at all, it'll just enhance your understanding of the character more if you know their background. Their inclusion will be a departure from the plot of the other series, and as such is not a true crossover.
> 
> Thirdly, thanks are in order, with special thanks to scarlett-isthenewblack for Harry's and Eggsy's push for me to write, Galahard for encouragement and threats in equal parts and Sherry, my beta-reader, editor, plotting sounding board and daily guilt-reminder to pen the next chapter of this fic already. Also to the anon who dropped encouragement in my inbox. And of course, all you followers and readers for sticking with this!
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy the long overdue fifth chapter of this fic!

"It's her. Call Merlin, tell him we've got her in our sights!"

"Wait!"

Roxy's exclamation fell on deaf ears as Eggsy charged straight towards the closing lift. In the rapidly shrinking gap between the doors, a discernable flicker of comprehension seemed to have struck the pixie-haired female who'd entered last before the sliding metal clanged shut. Roxy could only look on as he skidded to a stop to avoid colliding with solid metal, stabbed the 'up' button viciously with his finger multiple times, swore and bounded off in the direction of the access staircase.

Meanwhile, the second elevator pinged and hissed open. Poised as ever, Roxy stepped in and allowed the door to slide shut behind her before dipping a hand into her clutch to retrieve her Kingsman glasses. A quick double-tap to the side to put her into contact with Merlin was followed by a few swift jabs at the lift buttons to every floor of the building.

"Yes, Lancelot?"

"Galahad's spotted Robyn and he's given chase."

"Will do Lancelot, I'll be looking in. Keep the glasses on."

_Guess one peaceful night out is too much to ask for when you're a knight..._

* * *

Roxy emerged from the lift on the rooftop looking none the worse for wear. The same couldn't be said for Eggsy though, who stumbled out of the stairwell exit a few seconds later, panting hard with hair askew.

"Wh...where the fuck has she gone?"

A light drizzle peppered their evening dress as they stepped out under the night sky, surveying the chain link fence and the mass of concrete and rooftop air-conditioning units that lay beyond.

The rattling of metal broke the silence. From up high in their peripheral vision, a petite figure emerged, landing neatly on the balls of her feet atop the thin rail of the fence, followed by a neat drop and roll onto the bellowing metal platform beneath.

Eggsy wasted no time in climbing up the fence and vaulting over the top. Roxy simply undid the bolt holding the fence door closed and strode on through, heels clicking against the moist floor.

* * *

_So bloody close. Damn, she's good at parkour ain't she._

Vault for vault, leap for leap, roll for roll. Each move Eggsy matched with reckless abandon, gaining one step here, two steps there -  _just another arm's length…_

Adrenaline raced through his veins as he maneuvered a harrowing skid of oxfords on metal into a slide and threw himself forward, closing the distance between them, arms locked around her thighs.

They landed heavily, tumbling forward in a mass of limbs, skin burning as his knees and elbows skidded across concrete. He felt the friction of birdseye wool on tweed, which betrayed the movement of a hand breaching the gap between his shirt and suit. Wrenching his arm free amidst the scuffle, he thrust his fist in a direction he desperately hoped would land on exposed flesh. Unfortunately, the electrified signet ring sailed through empty space and missed Robyn by inches, no thanks to her swiftly executed backwards roll.

He'd scarcely popped up into standing position before he realised that the barrel end of his own weapon was leveled between his eyes. Biting back a swear, he raised his hands, the empty shoulder holster hanging beneath his left arm seeming far more painful than the burn in his kneecaps.

Robyn's eyes were piercing now, no trace of the warm invitation it held two months ago in the quiet pub by the Tower. The rain ticked up a notch around them, the pitter-patter of droplets staining both their suit jackets in dark splotches. He could see how the firearm in her hand quivered slightly, fingers curling tighter around the grip and gaze darting briefly beyond his shoulder as the clear clack of Roxy racking her handgun slide came from several paces behind him.

"No, Roxy."

He hoped she'd lowered her aim at the female in front of him, as he kept his gaze on the person who still had a gun directed at his face.

"Can't we talk about this? Just trust me for a minute here."

"You expect me to trust you?"

Robyn's tone was incredulous, scathing. Eggsy didn't have time to regret asking before his verbal train of thought continued.

"My name isn't Anthony Brice, and contrary to what you probably think, we're not here to arrest you, or throw you in jail, or prosecute you for anything you've done. Really. We're just interested in what you do. We think your skills are incredible, invaluable even."

He took two steps forward and she took two back, the heel of her left foot pressed against the low wall separating her from the edge of the building. He watched as she stole a glance over the edge, her expression strained slightly as she turned back to him, aim unmoving.

"What do you want with me?"

"We're from an organization that can put your skills to use in a meaningful way, for good. Provide you with anything you'll need to live comfortably in the downtime. You'll never need to worry about what will happen to you the day after tomorrow. We can promise– some level of security for you. You just need to be willing to take a leap of faith with us. Then, we'll explain everything."

Slowly, deliberately, Eggsy lowered his right arm, gesturing for the gun she held. She hesitated, uncertain, before relaxing her arm and letting his pistol pivot around her index finger, barrel down and grip facing him.

Before he could take the firearm from her, however, she whipped her arm upwards, sending it spinning straight up through the air. His gaze instinctively snapped to the path of the gun, extending his fingers to snatch it on its way down.

In an instant, all his breath escaped him and he staggered backwards, landing unceremoniously on his bum and clutching his chest.

He had not expected that kick.

That made him the fool for the third time.

She plucked his weapon out of the air with deadly precision and planted her feet against the ground, springing into a vault over the wall behind her.

The loud rippling bang of a gunshot being discharged from right behind him rang in his ears. Eggsy could only look on, mouth hanging agape as Robyn dropped out of sight.

* * *

"Lancelot, I said we needed her in one piece!"

Merlin's voice was loud in her ear, his anger palpable.

"I just wanted to get her to drop the gun! I thought she was going to shoot Galahad!"

Both knights rushed to press themselves against the edge. It was not, as they had feared, a ten-storey drop, but a ten-storey network of scaffolding. A rain-soaked figure in tweed descended the trellis of metal piping, faster than the blossom of red decorating her right shoulder should have allowed.

Eggsy, of course, threw himself over the edge to clamber down after her. Roxy pulled back to take a breath in an attempt to control her churning stomach.

_You'd think having jumped out of a plane would make this a cakewalk._

A quick sweep of the immediate area uncovered a sliding hatch that revealed a ladder leading down into a stairwell. Kicking her heels off into the darkness, she pulled herself barefooted onto the rungs, pulling the hatch shut behind her.

"Lancelot."

She waited for Merlin's reprimand. It was times like these she wondered how she managed to claim a knight's title in the first place.

"Two flights down and there'll be a door to the right with access to the cargo lift. You'll be down fast enough to intercept her with her current climbing speed. Oh– and you'd better remind Galahad to keep his glasses with him the next time he's gallivanting off on non-mission business."

It was also times like these she wondered how she could be more grateful to have someone like Merlin in Kingsman.

* * *

Robyn felt acutely every single sensation shooting through her body. The gun wedged into the rear waistband of her trousers. The screaming of every tensed muscle begging for relief. The dampness of wet tweed. The sticking of her shirt sleeve under her suit to the skin of her right shoulder. A searing pain with such intensity it was a wonder her right arm still bore her weight. She didn't dare survey the damage, least of all with the gentleman - should she even be calling him a gentleman at this point? - whom she had yet to find out the name of, on her heels. Or more accurately, above her heels.

Her brain running on overdrive was a sure sign of off-the-charts adrenaline.

_By extension a higher heart rate, increased bleeding…_

She wondered how much longer her grip would last. Peering down, she climbed faster.

About three storeys from the ground, she missed a handhold on the rain-slicked pipes and for a few terrifying seconds, dangled from a left arm that felt like it'd nearly been yanked out of its socket.

Of course, in those few seconds the man had caught up with her, braced his feet against the metal structure and leant down to offer her his hand.

For a moment, she actually considered taking it.

And then she let go.

Robyn had no time to wrap her head around the thirty-foot drop, letting muscle memory arrange the extension of her legs, the point of her toes, the bend of her knees.

She hit the ground hard and sucked in a breath, tucking her chin in towards her chest and letting her body roll over her left shoulder. Everything felt like it was burning now, but she forced her palms into the ground, heaving herself to her feet and taking off across and down the street, rounding the corner sharply, right into a crowd that'd spilled out under the awning of a pub.

Almost immediately a strong arm shot out from the entryway to the stairwell and yanked Robyn violently in, jamming a fedora down over her eyes and pressing her against the wall. A set of lips from the unknown assailant pressed against hers and she's too shocked to react for the first half a second, before she remembered she had hands to struggle with. His arms though - she's sure it's a him now - pinned hers to her sides, his broad frame easily obscuring her from the view of the drunken mass outside.

It's a precious few seconds more before she got desperate enough to use the only leverage she had to free herself, throwing every ounce of strength into ramming her right shoulder into the square of his chest, succeeding in driving him against the opposite wall. As if by instinct, she found herself with a fistful of collar in one hand and gun in the other, firmly nestled in the dip of his throat against his adam's apple. Pain exploded across her shoulder and streaked down the arm, but she's past caring at this point, words coming in ragged tones and emerging in a low growl.

"You don't get to fuck with me."

If it were any other occasion she probably wouldn't have recognised herself. Very rarely was she left without polite resolve.

"Woah, hey, easy there. Easy."

A flicker of recognition sparked in her mind at the mild Texan drawl even as her hands continued to force him against the wall. View still obscured by the oversized hat, she sensed a hand loosening it from her head and lifting it off, revealing the person who'd extracted her so violently mid-escape.

Robyn allowed her grip to slacken, releasing his collar and leaving her arms resting by her sides.

For the first time, she realised how hard her entire body was shaking. And just for a moment, the two shared a tense gaze regarding the other, silence punctuated by her heavy breathing and the drunken revelry outside the doorway. She leant back against the wall, catching her breath enough to form the words she needed.

"You are a fucking asshole, McKinney."

"Don't I know it."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Heard you'd been off the grid for a while and thought I'd pay you a visit."

"Don't give me that bullshit now. The last I heard about you, you were galloping along fine with the the other three horsemen - sorry, two. Jack's dead, isn't he, if I read the news right."

There was a hitch in her voice when she spoke Jack's name. She wasn't one to be impressed upon by magicians of a similar trade, but he was a polite enough admirer of her mentor's work for her to keep his career in peripheral interest.

"Nah, he's good. Not six feet under. And you know me, I'm there for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It's sayonara after that."

The mentalist offered a half-hearted shrug and grinned in a most unsettling way. Then again, he always looked unsettling, she considered.

"Still doesn't explain why you're here though."

"Well I happened to be here and you happened to need a distraction to get yourself out of a predicament. Doesn't really matter after that, does it? Yer owe me one cuz whoever's following you is off your tail for now."

As much as it pained her to admit it, he was right.

"Firstly, don't touch me ever again. And secondly, you know I'm a lesbian, so stop trying to get into my pants just because we share a profession and I'm a woman, clear?"

To drive home the point, she tucked the pistol into the left of her waistband. Although the point probably wasn't as well-driven as she would have liked, with her hands quivering enough that it took her four tries to get it in properly. It did not help that he was regarding her attempts with obvious amusement.

"Thirdly, kindly tell me what you want from me or fuck off, please."

"Hey there, just tryin' ta do a good deed once in a while. You know, karma, and all that jazz. Now, you'll need help taking care of that -" he nodded to her shoulder, nearly half her sleeve soaked in red now, "cuz I'm betting you can't just trot into a hospital without getting involved in a whole lot of bullshit you've been trying to avoid. Then we'll talk."

"Don't try your mentalism crap on me. If this is another one of your stupid schemes to get me to take my clothes off…"

"Do I look like a fella that'd take advantage of a poor lady in a pickle?"

Robyn shot a pointed glare at him.

"Alright, alright. Cross my heart. I'll know someone around these parts who actually knows about the stuff to get your arm back in shape. Trust me."

She sighed irritably, tweaking her thumb in the direction of the street. "I suppose. Lead the way."

"Nah, you can't go out like that. Them British bucketheads would be on ya before you can snap your fingers. Here, you take mine."

Honestly, she was in too much pain to protest at this point, allowing him to peel her tweed jacket off her and helping her arms into his oversized black equivalent. He'd folded her jacket, tucking the bloodsoaked half inside the clear one and draped it over his arm like a butler, hiding all trace of the evening's events. Having to trust another master of deception to get her through things seemed a horrible irony since she'd left the country to challenge herself in the first place.

"Ladies first, Miss Yeu."

Groaning inwardly, she stepped out into the street, batting away the arm he tried to sneak around her waist.

At least the rain had stopped for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are always very nice and encourage me to keep on writing, so have at it! I also enjoy getting them in my tumblr inbox at rafaelafranzen if you prefer leaving asks.
> 
> Yes, the new character inclusion is Merritt McKinney, the mentalist from Now You See Me. Because an A+ asshole makes for pretty fun writing and interaction.
> 
> If you're hankering for more writing from me (to make up somewhat for my absence), please check out:
> 
> ON, a "Harry meets Death" Discworld crossover (click on my author name and browse written works).
> 
> Ghost Bruvs, an ongoing series of humour drabbles on the ghosts of Kingsman in the style of the Seven Princes of Stormhold from Stardust (click on my author name and browse written works).
> 
> /tagged/krambles at my tumblr rafaelafranzen, where I collect the AUs, headcannons and discussions I write for Kingsman. A couple of notable ones are my Pacific Rim AUs / How little Gazelle got her legs featuring Aperture Science


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my followers and readers, thank you for sticking around. Since my last update, I've travelled to Japan, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, France, Belgium, the Netherlands and England, touched the Kingsman sign at Huntsman and Sons with my own hands, and survived half a semester at uni. As promised, I'm not giving up on this fic - I'll write it to the end, even if it takes a hell of a long time to get there.
> 
> As always, thanks to my beta reader Sherry. Enjoy.

**Yesterday, 4:18PM**

Victor's ears rang.

It was as if all his senses had just begun to trickle back into his being.

He was aware that he was gripping cold metal in both hands. Looking down at the arms extended in front of him he noticed the white cuffs of his shirt and most of his jacket sleeves had been stained with splatters of dark red. His fingers were curled around a black object.

_A gun?_

Beyond the end of the barrel slumped backwards against a bespectacled man's shoulder lay a familiar-looking woman with blood gushing down her face from a wound in the centre of her forehead.

_Pegasus?_

There was no way he could believe what he was seeing before him. The dead body. The stunned faces of his colleagues. The weapon in his hands. His finger on the trigger.

_This has to be a dream._

Victor lowered his shaking hands, the gun slipping out of his grasp. Reality rushed back with a clatter.

_What have I done?_

 

**Yesterday, 4:16PM**

"Good afternoon gentleman, now that we're all here, let's begin."

Everyone around the table flipped open the paper files before them. Pamela eyeballed the playing card on top of her papers in puzzlement.

_I most certainly did not put that there. Where did this come from?_

In her peripheral vision she could see Victor standing from his seat beside her. Turning her head to look at him, she found herself staring down a double-barreled gun.

Her mouth dropping slightly agape was as far as she got.

A loud bang reverberated through the room.

Everything went black.

 

**Yesterday, 3:52PM**

"Look, the card this morning was simple but this is a whole other level. Remind me again why I have to do this on my own. Are you sure you're not exploiting me into doing something that will have me hunted down by the secret service for the rest of my life?" Robyn whispered urgently into the walkie talkie before hastily hooking it back onto the vest of her security uniform. She could hear Merritt sighing through the earpiece.

"You know I ain't chums with the FBI or Interpol after the whole Four Horsemen shenanigans. Best be stayin' out of government buildings lest they tattle on me. They don't know who you are – you'll be fine. Besides, all the dirty work has already been done for you. Just remember the plan and do what you do best. Here he comes now. "

Watching the man in question walk towards the security checkpoint, she brought her right foot around in a circle, angling the steel ball hidden behind her boot towards the metal detector. A slight nudge was all it took for the sphere to sail silently across the carpeted floor in a diagonal through the space between his oxfords as he passed through the metal detector, rolling out of sight behind a potted plant.

The desired effect was achieved, a noisy buzz sounding from the grey frame. She could see him tense up, a flash of irritation evident in his expression. It was almost too easy.

"Sorry sir, could you please step this way and hold your arms out for me." Robyn held out a metal detector wand, motioning to a box marked on the floor.

"I'm in rather a hurry today. Do make this quick," grumbled the man, extending his limbs into a T formation. A quick once over with the wand led to a beeping as it waved over his lower back, easily assured by holding another metal ball up between the wand and his body.

"Sorry sir, I'm going to have to pat you down. Please stay still." Beginning from his ankles, she gave a series of even-handed presses firmly up the sides of his legs to his waist, sucking in her stomach to retrieve the pistol from where it had been wedged between her vest and body. In a single move she caught the gun from where it had dropped, slid it beneath the back of his suit jacket and clipped it onto his belt, resuming the patting motion up his torso and to the end of each arm. Finally, she ended with both hands resting on his shoulders, silently counting to three before lifting them.

"All clear sir, you're free to go now."

Robyn gave him a nod after he had turned to look at her confusedly. The man muttered a word of thanks and shook his head before striding off towards the elevators.

_Huh, it's almost like he's just woken from a trance_.

 

**Two days ago, 8:37PM**

"Just stay very still and relax yourself. Close your eyes and… sleep."

In a darkened room, Merritt had rested his hands on the shoulders of an older gentleman slumped forward in a chair.

"There's a mode you will move into, and we'll call it Agent One. It's a personality already within you that is triggered by an image. The image that will lodge itself deep into your unconscious is a playing card –the three of clubs. Whenever you see that image, your mind will shift to this state. As you feel it take you over, bring your hand behind your back and take hold of the gun. You will not be aware of the gun behind your back until you see the image, even if there is one there. When you touch the gun, you become Agent One. Your mission will be to eliminate the target. You will know who the target is. They will be the one with the three of clubs. On the count of three I will lift my hands and you will be wide awake. One, two…"

 

**One week ago, 11:23PM**

"Think of it as returning the favor. I helped you some, you help me some, it's win-win."

Robyn focused on the metal sphere balanced in the valley between her steepled indexes and thumbs, paying no heed to Merritt's pointed gaze from across the coffee table. Bringing those four fingers together to pinch the orb, she made a twisting motion and brought her fingers apart, a ball gripped between two fingers in each hand. A swivel of her right wrist produced a third sandwiched between her index and middle finger.

"I knew there was going to be a catch the moment you showed your face. Go on, spit it out."

"My client is willing to offer what I think you'll agree is more than respectable compensation for something you could do blindfolded with an arm tied behind your back." Nonchalantly, he reached across the table, plucked the steel sphere from her left hand and transferred it to his, making a show of blowing on it to reveal it empty with five fingers raised, a smug grin playing on his lips.

Robyn rolled her eyes, vanishing one of the two balls in the right hand with a shake as she spoke. "Nowadays when I go fishing I make more than five thousand on a single lift. Did you honestly think I'm that easily persuaded?"

Merritt feigned a hurt expression. "Oh, I'm sorry if I can't help seeming like the sort of person who'd underquote your unique services. I'm sensing I need to sweeten the deal here. No, don't tell me, just let me take a peek into your brain for a bit. I'm picturing… a disappearing act that's got something to do with… a lethal weapon, perhaps?"

Pausing, he brought his right hand down onto the table and released the palmed ball with a gentle flick. The sound of hollow metal rolling on wood came to a stop with a clink as the sphere bounced off the gun resting on the centre of the table between the two magicians.

"I'll even be so kind as to convince the boss to bump your payment up to a healthy five figures."

Her gaze shifted from the gun to meet his.

"Keep talking."

 

**Today, 8:02AM**

"Glasses please, Galahad, Lancelot."

Merlin tapped his clipboard, bringing up a portrait of a woman on the screen behind him.

"Pamela Thornton, codename Pegasus, former head of MI7, now deceased. She was killed yesterday by a bullet to the head during a meeting with the Foreign Secretary regarding security arrangements for a covert rendezvous in Switzerland between international heads of state on a negotiation regarding nuclear weapons."

"Hold up," Eggsy interrupted, "shouldn't this be MI6?"

"MI7 is the low-profile sister organization operating in tandem with MI6, concerned with the issues of national censorship and propaganda," Roxy explained. "They play a complementary part in undercover security and intelligence provisions for the UK's international relations. The Government announced that the branch was to be defunct after World War II but they have since continued business under the radar, though they only have a token few field agents these days."

"Lancelot clarified that quite sufficiently, I believe." Merlin made another tap on his clipboard and a different profile materialised on screen.

"The assassin in question is Victor Wright. Permanent Secretary of MI7, formerly Agent One of the service. At the beginning of the meeting in question, he stood from his seat beside Pegasus, pulled out a gun and shot her at point blank range. It killed her instantly."

Eggsy frowned. "What motivation would he have to murder her openly in front of everyone?"

"There has been some speculation that he had never settled well with the way she ran the service—"

"She paved the way for MI7 to ditch the guns and chauvinism and made conversation their weapon of choice," Roxy mused aloud, earning a scoff and muttering of "If that ain't bloody boring" under Eggsy's breath. She shot him a withering glare in response.

Merlin observed their exchange with raised eyebrows and diplomatic silence before continuing.

"Interrogations did not reveal any conclusive information. Victor claimed to not have known why he pulled the trigger; he only knew that he had an overwhelming impulse to do so. He was not even able to explain why and where the gun came to be on his person, with MI7 having a no-weapons policy outside of those assigned for missions. In fact, he was inconsolable over having killed the victim. Their behavioural psychologist confirmed that he was not lying nor under the influence of any known mind control substances as previously suspected. They've turned over the case to us because of the fear that they might have a mole in their system. But what's curious is the physical evidence they sent to us. I believe you both will find this familiar—"

A new set of images expanded onto the screen, displaying a standard issue Kingsman pistol and one empty bullet casing. For a moment, there was silence.

"So what you're saying is another one of our knights have gone rogue? I thought we'd have been over this by now after dealing with Arthur – sorry, the former Arthur's bullshit with Valentine."

"Just a moment, Galahad. DNA tests on the handle of the weapon have revealed something a little more complex than that."

Four names popped up at the bottom of the screen.

Gary Unwin – 49%

Pamela Thornton – 25%

Robyn Yeu – 17%

Victor Wright – 9%

Eggsy could only slump back into his seat, gaze affixed on the screen.

"Fuck. Me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my followers and readers for sticking with me to this point. Hope all of you enjoyed reading and that the timeline wasn't too confusing! Again, I promise I'll finish this fic come hell or high water at some point, even if I can't update with any regularity with my current schedule.
> 
> For those hankering after more canon character action, your patience is much appreciated. One needs to move along the plot somehow...
> 
> PS. For anyone that writes a review or messages me about this fic with opinion/thoughts/feedback, I'll message you fun facts about this chapter. For those that've been reading this for a while you probably know I like to incessantly stuff references to related fields, over-research the hell out of little details in the writing or pluck inspiration from a scene somewhere completely different. Bonus points if you can correctly spot any references to existing media/fandoms!


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